The Whiskey Rebel

I was still contemplating these developments, and sampling one of the bottles-for it ought not to be wasted-when Mrs. Deisher a

He turned to me, his face grave. I noticed, for the first time, lines forming about his eyes, as if he had aged five or ten years since last I saw him. “Good afternoon, Ethan.”

“I did not expect you to come calling.” I kept my voice calm and even, yet how my heart leaped to see him. Not since the war, not since I had studied under Fleet’s tutelage, had I known a friendship like his, and to think that it was over, that Leonidas could not forgive me, nearly staggered me. Yet I would not show it. I could not.

“I never intended to call, but I thought you would wish to hear what I have to say. You asked me to inquire into the Pearsons, and I did so, though until now I have learned nothing of import. But just this morning I received a visit from one of the former kitchen maids who heard, if somewhat belatedly, that I was willing to pay for information. In exchange for two dollars she told me that she knew their fate with absolute certainty.”

I stepped forward. “Well?”

He closed his eyes, as though bracing himself, and then looked at me boldly, as would a man offering a challenge. “It seems that Pearson has taken his family west, to Pittsburgh. They hired a guide and a team of animals, packed up a minimum of belongings, and departed.”

“Pittsburgh.” I whispered the word and then sat.

Falling into old habits, Leonidas poured me a glass of Duer’s sherry and then sat across from me. His hands were on his knees, and he leaned forward paternally. “I know the woman, and she is not prone to fabrication. If she says she is certain, I believe it must be true. I am sorry. I know this is hard news.”

I drank down the sherry at once. “I’ll go after her.”

He rose, refilled my glass, and handed it to me anew, this time nearly to overflowing. “Do you think that’s wise? I understand that you feel the need to save her, but is that something for which you are prepared-a wilderness conflict with a man as willful as Pearson?”

I drank half my glass. “Are you mad? You think I am not fit to confront Pearson in city or wilderness? She depends upon me to go after her. I must prepare at once. Thank you, Leonidas, for telling me. I know you are angry, but you have done the right thing.” I finished the drink. Already I felt the sherry flowing through me, and with it the inexorable energy that came with the first warmth of drink, and I felt shame, a deep and burning shame, that what Leonidas had taken from our years together was that I was not the man to save Cynthia. How wrong he was. I would go at once.

Leonidas studied me as though attempting to take some measure. “I shall leave you to your preparations, then.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it, but a terrible unspoken truth hung over this parting. I saw the distress in his gaze, and I understood it for the same trouble I felt in my heart. Once, not so long ago, the two of us would have faced these difficulties together. Now I was alone. I dared not ask him to join me, and his pride would never let him volunteer. Perhaps when I returned, when all these troubles had passed, Leonidas and I could begin to build the friendship anew. Perhaps this was my test. Only once I’d proved I did not depend on him could he trust me enough to befriend me.

I went upstairs and began to pull things from my trunks, things I could not do without. I would have to travel light and travel fast. They were several people. Including children. They had animals carrying their packs. They would be slow. They had a significant head start, but I would travel by horse and do so alone or perhaps with Lavien. If I were swift and made do with little sleep, I could hope to overtake them.

I looked at the crate of wine upon my floor, the bottles still-for the most part-nestled in their straw. There was a time, and it was not so long ago, when it would have been enough to stop me, or at least slow me down.

I looked at the crate again, which bore the name of the vendor stenciled upon the side. At once I grabbed my hat and coat and headed out to the street. It was but half an hour’s walk to reach the wine merchant, and I burst inside, demanding at once to speak to the owner.

It was later than I realized, and the man before me had been preparing to close his shop, but he needed only to look upon my face to understand that he would be better served saying nothing of this to me. This man, tall and balding and with a very red face, a

“I am Captain Ethan Saunders. You delivered to me a case of wine this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir. I trust there was no trouble with it. It was among our finest Spanish.”

“The wine was excellent, but I must know where it came from. Who placed the order?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he said, looking confused rather than sinister.

“Was it Mr. Duer of New York? Did he write to you?”

“No one wrote to me,” he said. “A man came in and placed the order directly. A big and very black fellow he was, but very polite and speaking like a white man. He didn’t give his name, and I didn’t need it. He paid me with good money, and as there could be no harm in sending a man a crate of good wine, that was all there needed to be between us.”

I hardly heard the rest, for I wandered from the shop. Why had Leonidas done these things? There could be no other explanation but that he was attempting, by various means, to manipulate me for Joan Maycott. I would either collapse into drunke

Now I understood everything, or at least enough. I understood why Leonidas had fled once he learned of his freedom; he could not bear to betray me once he learned I had not betrayed him. I understood why he had been so cruel to me when I visited him at his home-there could be no friendship between us while he served my enemies. Most of all, I understood how much I had been manipulated-how much we all had.

The ground was icy, and the sun had by now set, casting the city in darkness. Still, I ran. I ran past pedestrians and pigs and cows and carts and cart men who shouted at me to watch where I went. I was called a brute and a damned fool, but I did not care. I ran until I reached Lavien’s door, and I pounded and pounded and pounded until the miserable old woman answered and I pushed past her at once without a word.

Lavien sat at di

“We must go,” I said. “We must go to New York. Now, at once.”

He rose. “What has happened?”

“The whole time we were wrong. We thought to prevent the collapse of the bank, but we have done everything conceivable to bring about the bank’s destruction. It wasn’t Duer, it was us. We are the plot against the bank.”

He set down his knife. “What are you talking about?”

“We were so convinced that Duer was the danger that we did not see the obvious truth. It is Duer’s failure that will destroy the bank. That is why they don’t want me to go to New York. They don’t want me to see Duer, to understand how much in debt he is, how precarious is his situation. If he goes bankrupt, he could well bring the country with him.”

Lavien remained still for a moment. Then he said, “We must see Hamilton.”